Moonlight Thoughts
by lostatseanomore
Summary: The thought's of both Rukia and Ichigo one restless night in the light of a bright moon. IchiRuki


Disclaimer: Neither _Bleach_ nor any of its characters belong to me

Hope you enjoy

* * *

She opened the closet door and peaked out into the room, illuminated by the moonlight. Everything was still, quiet, and, when she strained her ears enough, she could hear his soft, steady breathing.

_Truly a beautiful sound._

She crept silently over to his bedside and knelt beside it. The moonlight played across his features and highlighted his hair, giving him a halo. She rested her chin on his mattress and gazed outside. The moon was big, bright, and white, and the sky was blanketed with thousands of stars.

He stirred beside her but did not wake. His features scrunched slightly, his brow furrowing, and his fist clenched at his side. He gasped and whipped his head around to face her. With her eyes on his face, watching him, she carefully reached for his wrist. He remained asleep, but the tense look on his face did not soften. She cupped his wrist gently and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.

Guilt washed over her. She was the reason he worried, even in his sleep. She was the reason he so often slept fitfully, from nightmares he couldn't outrun. She was the reason those perfect orange eyebrows were always tense, why his strong jaw was always clenched. She was the reason he'd never be a normal teenager, a normal human, again. And she hated herself for it.

He'd become her best friend, her rescuer (several times over), her roommate, her teacher, her confidant, her...her everything, in such a short amount of time. She could hardly remember what her life--all 150 years of it--had been like without him. This--this boy had somehow managed to single-handedly turn her world upside down, but she didn't care; she was okay with that. All she cared about was the damage she'd done flipping _his_ world, and if any of it was reparable.

Her thoughts had carried her away, and, for the first time, she noticed she was no longer holding his hand; he was now holding hers. She looked to his face, expecting to see amber eyes watching her, filling with irritation because she was bothering him, or maybe concern because she was up, but she found them still sealed in sleep, his features now calmed and at ease. His hand had turned to cup and cradle hers and was holding on tightly. She smiled and sighed his name softly. His innocence was breathtaking, and before she could talk herself out of it, she touched his fingertips softly with her lips. She then disentangled their hands and stood above his peacefully sleeping form. He didn't stir.

She climbed back into his closet and slid the door shut behind her. She lay back and stared at the ceiling and, as she slowly drifted off the sleep, promised herself she'd find a way to repay all he'd done for her and, somehow, make sure he got the normal life he deserved, the one she'd inadvertently stoled from him.

* * *

Slowly, he squinted one eye open. As he'd thought, she'd climbed back into his closet and the door was now closed. He inhaled deeply and looked up at the ceiling as thoughts sped through his head. He'd been having another nightmare, but it's as if she'd scared it away. He didn't know exactly when she'd woke, or when she'd sat by his bed, or when she'd taken and caressed his hand, only that when he had noticed, he'd liked it: liked feeling her presence so near, liked her soft touch on his rough hand. He inhaled her scent deeply, savoring it, memorizing it. He wished he'd had the courage to show her he was awake, that he was aware of her watching him, and, moreover, that he was okay with it, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. More than anything he'd wanted to open his eyes and watch her watch him, to gaze into her violet eyes surely reflecting brightly in the glow of the moon. But he'd settled for inconspicuously turning over his hand to holding hers tightly.

He'd thought he heard her whisper his name, but figured he was falling back asleep, when he felt her doing something else. He'd kept his eyes closed, but when she'd raised their entwined hands and pressed her lips to his fingertips, he'd wanted to jump out of bed and...and what? What would he have done? Pulled her into his arms? Confessed his love to her? Yeah, right. So he'd continued to pretend he was asleep, even as she let go and retreated into his closet.

He didn't sit up, but as he exhaled he, slightly frustrated, ran his hands through his hair. He could still feel her warmth on his left hand. His gaze shifted to the window, where the moon sat high in the sky and emanated a soft light that splayed across his whole room.

_Why does she make me feel this way?_

Sure, his life had been okay before he'd met her. He'd just been an average high school student, an average brother, an average son, an average friend. Average. But now..._she_ had changed _everything_...for the better. He had improved in every aspect of his life. She had brought him to life, as if he'd never heard his heart beating until he met her.

She annoyed the living daylights out of him, certainly, but somehow his fights, his arguments with her brought him back down to earth. She was the only one who not only matched his loud mouth decibel for decibel, but could easily shut him up just as quick. She'd made him stronger, better, in every way possible, and she'd never know how grateful he was for that. His thoughts circled around her as he drifted back to sleep, searching for a way to tear down her walls and let her know _exactly_ how he felt.


End file.
